Everything Changes: part 2: Divination
by Pr
Summary: Krycek and Marita approach Skinner about Scully's condition, while Scully experiences visions and visitations.


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Everything Changes  
Pt 2: Divination  
by PR

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Cat: Skinner angst  
Post Requiem piece-- Finale Spoiler  
Disclaimer: We don't need no stinking disclaimers!   
Authors note: I've got no clue where this is going...   
I feel just like Chris Carter must every time he sits   
down to write a script. To be honest, I feel that this is  
as vague as an episode we would all rip to shreds-- but   
that's the feel I'm kinda going for here, I guess. I make no  
pretence that this is anything but a cheesy attempt to   
parallel Chris Carter.

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Always feeling as though he was being watched was a damnable sensation. His senses had always been sharp, but over the last seven years they had been kicked up a notch, telling Skinner exactly when he was being watched.

Skinner unlocked the front door to his apartment, but didn't open it. He straightened and looked down the hall. Krycek was there, casually sauntering his way down the hall, thin smirk in place, his eyes dark and cold like a doll's. 

Skinner had been the go between once already, he'd done his job, and theirs as well it seemed now that Mulder was out of the picture. What the hell did this untrustworthy bastard want from him now?

"What are you doing here?" Skinner asked him grimly.

Krycek hesitated, appearing to savor a moment of personal joy Skinner in no way recognized. "Good news comes in small packages," Krycek said, and smiled. He held up a brown paper bag, it's sharp undeniably that of a bottle. "A little something to help celebrate the good news."

Skinner glared at the younger man, his jaw clenched tight. The son-of-a-bitch knew. "I don't know what you're talking about, Krycek," Skinner choose a veil of ignorance.

Krycek dropped the bagged bottle loosely to his side, dropping his chin theatrically. He shook his head before glancing up and down the hall. "You really want your neighbors knowing all your business?" he asked Skinner, fixing his sharp gaze on him.

"I don't see why they shouldn't, everyone else seems to know it," Skinner grumbled, giving his apartment door a hefty shove.

"Our mutual buddy, Spender the senior, took a nasty spill last night," Krycek said as he followed Skinner inside. 

"And that's what we're celebrating?" Skinner questioned, but allowed Krycek no time to answer. "I think I'll pass."

"No. He doesn't deserve celebration or remembrance." Krycek shut the door. "The old maketh way for the new. Isn't that how it works?"

Wordless, Skinner looked around at Krycek. He wasn't going to bite. 

"Don't play stupid, Skinner," Krycek said, his voice going up in pitch. "The rules have all changed, and you better get up to speed on them quick or it's going to cost Scully."

Skinner narrowed his gaze. "What are you talking about?"

Krycek came across the room, stopping in front of Skinner, matching his gaze. "Scully came into contact with something that..." he paused, chewing his cheek. "Something that reversed her infertility-- Something that healed her. Something powerful."

"What--?"

"Shut up and listen," Krycek demanded, "the healing wasn't whole-- She won't go to full term if she doesn't have contact with this power again."

Skinner swallowed, feeling his skin pull into goose flesh. 

"He's right," a woman's husky voice came from the shadows. Skinner snapped his attention toward the sound, startled. Krycek, too, seemed surprised, and took a step back from Skinner as Marita stepped into the lamp light. 

Her gaze drifted over Krycek and Skinner's expression. "And Scully's pregnancy must be successful, nothing can interfere with it." She paused, leveling her wolf-like gaze on them. "This child will be the savior of mankind."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~^^XX^^~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully stood where the blacktop road stopped abruptly, giving way to rough gravel. The land spread out before her, a sheer, limitless plain surrendered to the horizon in shades of blue and violet. She felt the pulling in her stomach, drawing her into this magnificently threatening expanse. She sensed truth in this place. 

She moved forward without walking. Scully perceived her body as a shed husk, and rose above the land. There was no sense of concordant thought or sensation, but there was order. She had visions of harmony, and sensed the union of essence-- souls colliding with her own. She was swallowed. She was absorbed. 

Visions without sight or sound presented themselves to her. She sensed a gentle beating, the wings of a great bird. Was this herself? She sensed the light of the earth below her, its warmth radiating up to caress her soul. 

"You are the stone," a voice came to Scully. She knew this voice-- it resonated through what remained of her sum and substance, silent. "In every stone there is a crystal."

The beating grew, and Scully recognized a second beating beneath the first. 

"In the crystal there is light," the voice told her. She felt warmth caressing her, the gentle beating pressing against her. "The light will bare what was once unseen."

The pulling began again, and Scully felt her senses returning-- felt the swell of blood in veins and strength in muscles.

"The light must be protected-- powers will seek it... Seek protection, find the patient spirit at your side... "

A third beat began to surge around her, strong and unyielding-- Gravity then grasped her brutally, yanking her from the voice, the warmth, pulling her into a black maw-- Spiraling into loneliness-- Intense, unbearable loneliness. Was this death she careened toward? 

A deafening roar filled her ears, like a thousand voices all speaking at once. The sound deepened, pressing in on her until Scully thought she could not draw another breath; a sudden ecstasy rapt her, charging her with an overwhelming warmth of expectation and knowing. Blackness scattered in her sight, like startled crows, revealing the glare of a vast desert plain. 

Her body was still, and she stood at the edge of a great mesa; all of creation lay out below her feet, a hot wind pushing at her skin.

"Are you ready?" Scully turned to see her father at her side, the glare of the day nearly washed his features away. 

"Dad?" She squinted against the light, and she saw not her father but Skinner looking back her, waiting for her answer, patiently. 

Scully woke with a gasp, sitting up in bed immediately, clutching the bedding to her chest. Tatters of the dream scurrying into the darkness of her bedroom, leaving her disoriented and shaky. After a long moment, she exhaled softly and brushed her hair back, lifting her head. 

Scully caught her breath, stiffened by the ethereal sight before her. 

Albert Hosteen looked back at her with aged eyes, etched with wisdom. 

Scully tried to speak.

Albert slowly bowed his head to her, his image fading from sight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~^^XX^^~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Coming…  
Part 3: Apostatized  


Comments welcome: [perri29@aol.com][1]

   [1]: mailto:perri29@aol.com



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